A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze.
Statement of Faithfulness.
As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Frankenstein in a spacesuit in inner space

Oh well... another gig... I forgot, a yearly event... a must do, big audience, and what can I do? I tried to sing a bit today... a voice like sand blowing through an empty hall... a dead thing trying to appear alive.

What can I expect... I am without human touch. I wonder, often when sitting alone at diner, wonder what it would be like to have a friend, a human touch on my hand... but even with the few friends I have, it is like I live in a space suit, looking out at the world of living people - no warm touch, no sensation of another. But, at least if I were in space, I could accept the void... instead I look out at a living world... from these dead eyes, this soulless form... this lonely glass cell set out in the world.

Damned if I know what I will sing, nothing to play, my hands have gone to ... well, one needs to keep playing the pipes... I haven't.

So, I'll go out there and play, pretend, do my best... it hurts deeply.